


Just Some Twisted Dream

by NarryEm



Series: One Real Thing You've Ever Known [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Psychological Drama, Riding, Smut, again with the fucked up level, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2000547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>Feel Your Pulse in the Pages.  </i>Harry just wants to figure how to get past the obstacle called Niall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Some Twisted Dream

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Amnesia" by 5 Seconds of Summer.
> 
> If you haven’t read _Feel Your Pulse in the Pages_ , you should read it unless you want to be fundamentally confused throughout this one shot. This could turn into a proper series depending on the response I get. I’ve tried researching hallucinations further but so far I haven’t been able to determine if it’s possible to have a series of hallucinations that are inter-connected even with interruptions between the episodes.

 

Darkness.  Flashing smudges of light.  Blood. 

And nothing.

Harry wakes to an unusually bright morning or afternoon, and it’s too good to be true.

“But it’s not,” a familiar deep voice responds.

Harry snaps his eyes open only find himself staring into green eyes.  Green eyes that used to bring equal amounts of fear and arousal.

“Can’t be.  I’m locked up in a loony bin, that’s what they told me.”

Niall chuckles darkly.  “Oh, poor naïve little Harry.  Did you honestly think that people will believe your wild stories of someone like me?  And you’re not in a nuthouse right now, are you?”

And Niall is not wrong.  Harry looks around only to see the familiar decrepit and peeling wallpaper in his flat.  It smell just the same as he remembers and he is lying on top of his bed.  He isn’t lying on a firm mattress and hooked up to a thousand different machines to machine his brain activities.

“See? That was just a bad dream you had,” Niall croons, leaning in so that their foreheads touch. 

“Just a bad dream,” Harry repeats dutifully. 

“Yes,” Niall soothes him.  “You’re still in London and studying folklores and creative writing.  You write short stories to kinda help pay for the tuitions, remember?  And don’t even get me started on Liam and Louis being love-struck idiots who need to get their shit together and fuck already.”

Harry laughs at that.  “God, you can cut through the sexual tension between them with a knife.  Or choke on it.  And I think Zayn’s gonna propose to Perrie when they’re done with school.  They’ve been together for so long I can’t really remember the time when they weren’t in love with each other.”

“Yeah, see?  Reality is what you make of it and this surely has to be the true reality.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Uni is brutal, but then Harry has always known that this is inevitable.  His older sister has told countless horror stories of the midterms and finals and experiencing them in actual life is ten times worse, if not more.  He will never understand why midterms are called midterms when he has them every month or so, not exactly in the middle of a term.

He wonders what Niall tells his friends about himself.  Do they still think of the cheery blonde as Harry’s sort-of boyfriend?

Harry forces himself shake off the thoughts.  His next lecture is his choice elective for the term and he misses secondary school biology because the current one has way more stuff he has to memorise.

As much as he tries, he can’t fight off the waves of drowsiness that comes as soon as the ancient prof starts talking.  The low light setting for the projection doesn’t help one bit.  As usual, he spends the hour taking illegible notes and doodling.

At lunch, he goes to the café that his friends practically own and orders his usual lunch.  Perrie and Zayn are there already and barely spare him a glance as he sits down.  Niall comes soon after and it leaves him wondering where Louis and Liam are.

“Wait,” Harry finally connects the dots.  “Do you reckon that those two idiots finally got their shits together and are shagging like the world is ending?”

Niall’s blue eyes light up immediately.  Zayn and Perrie emerge from their own little world and Zayn smirks; at the same time Niall says: “If that is the case, I do not wanna think about thinking about it.”

“Rude,” Louis’ voice chirps right behind Harry’s ear.

Harry whips around and not surprisingly he sees Louis fingers interlaced with Liam’s.  They are both smiling with lunatics and it has to be because they confessed their undying love for each other.

“Please tell me you guys are together,” Perrie begs. 

Liam sighs.  “Yeah.  And for your information, I don’t fuck; I make love.  Especially when it’s with someone I’ve been loving for quite some time.”

“Blegh,” Harry exclaims.  “Zayn, please tell Liam that he needs to take his lovey dovey shit elsewhere.”

“But Harry,” Perrie complains, “they are so cute now that they’ve got their act right.  Took them way too long but still.  I love openly gawking at cute couples.”

It’s Harry’s turn to sigh.  “With that attitude, should I be afraid that you’ll be hounding me to go ahead and fall in love with Niall or something?”

Niall snickers, loudly, and Harry sends him a deserving withering glare.

“To be honest,” Zayn intervenes, “me and Pez always thought that you might have something going on with that Nick bloke.”

 Harry blushes bright red.  “That is so not—” Because his life is (unfortunately) a scene straight out of a romantic comedy film, his mobile blares his ringtone and it is a call from none other than Nick himself.

“Hey Grimmy,” Harry greets him.  Who even calls in this day and age anyway?  Even his mum has learnt to text him.

“Hello Harold.  How you holding up with that psychopathic lover of yours?”

Harry feels his cheeks heat up as they turn an unattractive shade of red.  Judging by the way Perrie is snickering at him, it has to be fairly bad. “Shut it.  I’m with some friends right now and I am so not divulging the details from my sex life in a public place.”

Thankfully, Grimmy catches his drift.  “Gotcha.  If you happen to swing by my flat around four, I’ll have your favourite vodka drinks lined up for you and some of that cheesy telly shows that you like queued up.”  Okay, so maybe Harry has to stop telling his friends his schedule especially if they have an uncanny ability to memorise it.

“Fine.  I’m coming alone so don’t even think about it.”

Even across the phone, Harry can tell that Nick has just pouted. (And probably reaching for a bottle of pinot because he’s Nick.) “Fine, you little brat.  I’ll save that for when I’ll casually come by to yours for a friendly chat but end up staying for dinner.  Don’t forget that you never took back the spare key you lent me two years ago.”

That little fucker.  “You’re the worst.”

Nick laughs.  “You know you love me best.”

“Actually, I’m starting to think I’m a mama’s boy through and through.  Louis and Liam finally fucked their years of sexual tension and frustration away.”

“How many times,” Louis protests, “do we have to tell you that we make love? Besides, Liam is a gentleman and he hasn’t done anything past dropping to his knee to suck my—“

“Louis is being disgusting right now,” Harry complains into the screen of his mobile.

“Can’t blame you for being disgusted because I do not want to hear how well Liam sucked Tomlinson’s dick either,” Nick muses.

“Nick!” Harry reprimands him, flabbergasted.  Niall chuckles at his obvious mental distress and only Liam has the decency to try and cover Louis’ mouth because Louis is quite clever.  And of course, the moment Liam has his mouth on Louis’ mouth, he kissed the palm with a loud smacking sound and somehow ends up climbing into Liam’s lap so that they can snog.  Harry has no idea how that was physical possible given the state the chair is in.

“See you later, Harold,” Nick continues to laugh right up to the point Harry signs off.

“I trust that all is well with our tall friend?” Louis asks, nuzzling his face into Liam’s hand.  They are so cute that Harry either wants to coo at them or vomit.

“Shut up.  I still don’t understand how you lot are my best friends.  Niall is my favourite now.” Shit maybe he should have said that.  Not a lot of people would proclaim that a sociopath straight out of stories is their favourite person, he reckons.  Then again, his taste in friends is questionable at times like this.

They all laugh at him because they don’t know the full extent of it.  Only Harry can pick out the condescending look in Niall’s blue eyes, and the way they narrow like Harry has described so many times in his stories before Niall does something terrible and amoral.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“You’re late,” is Nick’s way of greeting Harry when he walks into his flat.

“How am I supposed to be on time when we never set an absolute time for dinners at yours?” Harry retorts as he shoves a bottle of pinot

“Touché,” Nick admits.  “Any development with your murderous lover?”

Harry glowers.  “I’ve managed not to be charmed into shagging him in a while, if that’s what you were implying.  You need a boyfriend of your own, Nick, so that you’ll have less time to poke your nose into your friends’ business.”

Nick laughs loudly.  (Harry is beginning to notice a pattern around his friends and he swears that he is going to turn this around.) “I don’t do commitment well.  But then again, I am contradicting myself because I am enrolled in a master’s degree program that’ll take forever to complete and a lot of commitment.  The only thing I’ll willingly commit to, dear old Harold, is a good mobile plan and friendship.”

“Charming as ever,” Harry comments.  Nick is one of those blokes who do not have a strong tendency to burn down the kitchen whenever he cooks.  Tonight’s dinner is a simple affair of mushroom and chicken alfredo linguini and some salad.  Nick pours a generous amount of wine into both their classes claiming that there is no shame showing up to an undergraduate class hungover. 

“But in all seriousness,’ Nick says over the third glass of wine, “how _are_ you doing?”

Harry heaves out a sigh.  “I dunno, and that’s the bloody problem, innit?  You’ve read a few of my stories and there’s no denying that Niall is alluring and I literally have only myself to blame for that.  He is a part of this world now and I have no power over that or what my heart wants.  Sometimes I feel like this world isn’t even real, Nick.  I’m scared that tomorrow, I’ll open my eyes and see that my reality is something far worse than this already fucked-up world we live in.  We humans have the ability to be vicious and apathetic; so what’s one good willed person against one vicious person?  Ten? A thousand?  A world full of them?  This could all shatter and scatter like a dream.”

There’s two things that Harry notices.  One, Nick looks dead serious as he stares into his wine glass and then into Harry’s eyes.  Two, he feels a bit light-headed.

“That’s the beauty of living, though, isn’t it?” Nick concurs.  “Also, you are such a lightweight.  I’ll bet you my favourite jumper that you won’t remember half of what you just said, little philosopher.”

“I’ll take that bet, doctor hipster,” Harry jokes.  “I’ve been eyeing that ivy-covered jumper for a while now.”

Nick glances at the apple-shaped clock on the wall.  “It’s getting close to eleven and I know you have an eight a.m. so I’m putting you to bed, you little monster.”

“Ta,” Harry mumbles.  Nick puts the dishes away and has to all but drag Harry to the bed.  It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed and nor will it be the last.  Harry has no qualms about stripping down to his pants and climbing into the bed next to a pyjama-clad Nick.  He snuggles into Nick’s back and falls asleep.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Harry knows something is different when he wakes up.  For starters, it’s very warm and he is wearing a t-shirt and a pair of joggers.

“The sleeping beauty awakes,” Niall’s voice sneers.

He recognises the dull colours of the institution and the stale smell of it.  And that confuses him because Niall is still here.

“I’ll always be a part of you, darlin’,” Niall explains, with a hint of exhaustion seeping into his voice.  “Unlike your so-called friends and family who have never visited you since you were admitted.  I know that California is far away from England but isn’t love from family supposed to be unconditional, sometimes friends too?  I guess your true self scared them away for good.  You do remember, don’t you?  Sometimes, your hallucinations of that different life is linked to you in this state.  Humans are wonderfully cruel to others and the absence of your friends is a perfect example of this.  Although, I thought that Nick Grimshaw might see pass this.”

A loud scream fills the empty room.  It takes a few seconds for Harry to realise that the sound is coming from himself and the sudden darkness comes from his hands that are raised to cover his eyes.  He screams and screams until his chest feels as though there are cables wrapped around it and he can’t breathe or think straight.  Tears stream down his face in pathetic sobs and the door slam open as a team of nurses arrive.  The ECG beeps loudly to signal his rapidly increased heartbeat rate.  They must have injected him with sedative because Harry can feel his muscles growing heavy and keeping his eyes open is a struggle.  Nonetheless, Niall’s blond hair and blue eyes are the clearest things in his vision until it goes all black.

 

 

Harry wakes into the same reality as before, much to his disappointment.

But Niall is still here.

“Strange,” he thinks out loud, although he supposes that Niall can still hear him without the verbalisation.  “Don’t you think that the doctors should have prescribed me some medication for the hallucinations?  And where is the logic in sending me so far away from home?”

Niall smiles sympathetically, an excellent mask that Harry can almost believe. “It broke your mum’s heart to see you in this state.  If you ever remember fully what happened before they found you out.  Also, sometimes familiar settings can worsen the affected person’s behaviour and symptoms.  They recite the same information to you all the time but I guess you aren’t fully cognizant for them.  They say you’re a rare case because you don’t have a clear memory of your hallucinations.  And also, the way that you’ve grown dependent on the drugs to regulate your nervous system has become very problematic.  They don’t think you’ll know but I’m there below the surface even when you aren’t completely awake, y’know.  That’s the beauty of us, isn’t it?  It seems that I can’t exist without you and oddly, you can’t exist without me alongside.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut.  “Shut up!  You want to get a rise out of me and you’ve got it.  Sod off and leave me alone.  This has to be a dream, just a dream!  I’m not crazy!”

A dark laughter echoes in the room and Harry covers his ears.  Just a dream.  Just a fucked up and twisted that he’ll wake up from. But no matter what happens, Harry knows deep inside his heart that he has to live with the pain of memories that he never can escape.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“I’m done with the shower,” Harry calls out as he ruffles his hair further with the towel.  As strange as it is, he has gotten used to living with Niall in his shitty flat.  Neither of them take long showers and Niall isn’t picky with what Harry cooks.  He even cooks occasionally, especially on days when Harry has lectures into the dinner time.  They do not, however, have sex all the time.  Actually, they haven’t had sex in over two weeks.  Harry counts that as a personal win because that means that his body isn’t covered with embarrassing hickeys and he’ll be able to walk normally. 

“Aww damn,” Niall sighs in an exaggerated manner.  “And here I was hopin’ that I could join you in the shower.”

“You’re all talk,” Harry points out because it’s true.  Other than the taunts and light touches that don’t last longer than they should, things have been abnormally platonic between them.  Harry still isn’t sure how he feels about the sudden lack of sex.  He has resorted to the good old wank in the shower and he’ll admit to letting his thoughts slip away to the image of Niall doing lewd things to him and with him all that time ago.

“Excuse me for trying to be the nice guy for once,” Niall retorts.  “By the way, are you ever gonna go back to writing?”

Harry shrugs.  “Dunno.  Maybe this time I’ll make Liam the evil one and Louis can be the damsel in distress with a fantastic arse.”  But then Harry remembers what a kinky bastard Louis can be.  He will never be able to forget all the details that Louis has digressed to the whole group drunk; Harry had never known that human bodies could do _that_.  “Actually no, he might turn that into some idea for sex.  I’m starting to think that the reason why Liam looks tired all the time is Louis.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case,” Niall whispers right into Harry’s ear.  He startles and manages to knock his elbow into a random textbook that he threw on the table earlier.  It lands with a loud resounding thud and Harry is hyper aware of Niall’s body pressed to his backside.  He glances back quickly only to find that Niall has left a trail of clothes in his wake.

“Ni-Niall,” he trails off and he can only blame his libido on his age.

“I’m not doing anything wrong, am I?’ Niall asks cruelly, his arms coming up to cage Harry in them.  Harry still hasn’t figured out how Niall has the upper hand in strength when he is a bit taller.  (He will not let himself think it’s due to the way he’s written Niall’s character.)

“Unless you’re planning on fucking me through my pants, no,” Harry replies.  He makes the mistake of looking at Niall’s face then and the shrewd look on Niall’s face makes his face flush.  “That was not an invitation, you perv!”

“It’s been so long though,” Niall whines not unlike a spoilt child.  There is a light pressure on the back of Harry’s neck and he soon registers that as Niall’s soft lips.  His resolve dissipates too quickly with the continued assault and when the pressure morphs into suction, Harry is a goner.  He turns around so that he can kiss Niall on the lips.  (He can’t remember a time where he’s initiated a kiss but he could be wrong.)

“Finally,” Niall mutters.  “You’re much more fun when you’re this way.”

They stumble into the bedroom and Niall shoves Harry onto the bed impatiently.  There isn’t much sensuality in the manner that Niall pulls the boxers off of Harry’s body and nor there is anything other than lust as he kisses Harry hungrily.  Somehow, without Harry realising, Niall has gotten a hold of the lube and condoms.  The sight of Niall fingering himself open is enough to get Harry fully hard before Niall wraps his other hand around Harry’s erection to tease it. 

Harry hates how Niall takes his time loosening himself, like he is putting on a show for Harry’s sake.  Or, it’s more likely that this is Niall’s way of punishing Harry for holding out for so long.  Harry may be a guy but he still has his pride and if it comes down to it, he will blame his pride for his current predicament.  It’s not as though watching Niall work himself open is a terrible thing anyway.

At least that’s what he thinks until his wrists are bound.

He doesn’t know how this happened but Niall is done preparing himself and Harry’s arms are above head, wrists tied together with his khaki green bandana that he wears often now that he’s grown lazy with his hair.  He never knew that his bad habit of having his clothes lying around on his bed would come to bite his arse this way.  Strangely, he is even more turned on by this.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Niall taunts, his face level with Harry’s cock.  “You’re an eager boy, aren’t ya?”

Harry blushes again.  “You play dirty.”

“The world would be a dull, boring place if everyone followed the walls,” Niall says with a chuckle.  “And it’s the rule breakers who end up at the top of this wretched world.”

“That makes you—” Harry had a witty reply, he really did, but Niall is a cheeky fucker and he chose that moment to suck Harry’s dick into his mouth.  He’s missed this, the whole sex and everything else Niall.  Maybe this is the step before he falls for Niall and plummets.  Or maybe this is purely physical.  Either way Niall is magical and Harry has to dig his nails into his palm so that he won’t come in seconds.  The pain does little to stave off his orgasm and he’s relieved when Niall lets his cock slide out.

“Looks like I don’t have much to work with since you’re ready to blow,” Niall jokes.  There’s an embarrassing loud choked groan coming from Harry when Niall climbs up Harry’s lap and grips the base of his prick to position it.  “All you have to do now is lie back and take it.”

Harry can see the unopened condom packages to their side.  “Ehm,” he says awkwardly.  “Can we do it with a condom?”

The resulting bout of laughter is something that Harry couldn’t have ever prepared himself for.  “That’s the first time you’ve remembered.  Fine; and don’t worry, you haven’t killed the mood or anything.”

There is some shuffling around as Niall spins around to put the condom on Harry.  Then he sinks down on Harry’s prick smoothly all in one go.  True to his character, Niall doesn’t gasp out or show any signs of being in pain.  Rather he moves his hips in a figure eight motion to torture Harry in the best possible way.

“Bastard,” Harry grits out.

“Is that why you’re doubting what your feel for me?” Niall smirks.  “You’re an open book, Harry.  You’re the worst at keeping secrets and you wear your heart on your sleeve.  It’s charming, I suppose.”

Harry covers his face out of humiliation, or he tries to.  It’s rather uncomfortable and he honestly doesn’t want to sacrifice the view of Niall bouncing on his dick right now.  He’s so tight, deliciously so, and Harry all too aware of his own body and Niall’s.  Niall’s pale fingers are digging into Harry’s hipbones and it stings a bit, yeah, but it seems to only add to the building pleasure.  He doesn’t know when he turned the slightest bit masochistic and he wonders if Niall’s presence in his life will affect him any further. 

Coherent thoughts are hard to form once Niall picks up the pace and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.  It’s absolutely filthy, the way Niall’s eyes are still locked onto Harry’s even as he is working towards his climax and being a total minx about it too.  It’s just as if Harry is hypnotised by Niall’s eyes because he can’t look away or close his eyes.  The more he looks into Niall’s eyes, the more he craves for them to look at him in a different way, as improbable as that is.

Harry comes first and he watches helplessly as Niall rides his sensitive dick and strokes himself in tandem.  It’s a beautiful sight to behold, it truly is.  Niall clambers off Harry’s body and walks out the door, presumably to take a shower. He vaguely remembers to dispose the condom before he falls into a deep sleep.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“I am the biggest idiot on Earth,” Harry admits piteously.  Nick makes an agreeing sound as he flips a page on his text book.

“And wallowing in self-pity will help you how?” Nick asks him.

Harry glares at him.  “Shut up.  What’s up with the study mode on a Friday night?  Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a night out with your friends?”

Nick looks up from his textbook. “I was talking to my classmate about something and I need to prove him wrong when I meet up with him and some other people for a study session tomorrow.  I’ve found the information I needed so now I can drag you along to my wardrobe and force you to get ready for a night out.  There’s a vintage Nirvana t-shirt that I know for a fact that you’ll love.”

It’s an obvious tactic but Harry falls for it anyway.  “Fine.  But we are not going to stay out past one.  I’m not a party animal like someone.”

“Tsk tsk, Harold,” Nick mocks him.  “Louis will be very disappointed to hear that.”

“You sure you aren’t talking about yourself?” he shoots back.

“Touchy.  Does having sex with Niall turn you into a bit of a psychopath as well?  Or is there a secret you that I never knew of?”

Harry punches him on the arm lightly.  “Stop whilst you’re ahead and loan me that t-shirt already.”

 

 

Half an hour later, Harry is sloshed and dancing with a random blond who looks like he is trying to fuck him through his garish red trousers somehow.  Nick is sat at a table chatting the night away and Harry doesn’t miss the way Nick’s huge hand is creeping up the bloke’s thigh.  The other bloke leans into Nick more than anything else so good on him.

 _Alone again,_ he thinks bitterly.  He won’t resort to Niall again, that option is forbidden.  That doesn’t explain why he’s tolerating the blondie, not really.  The cologne he has got on is too strong for Harry’s taste and he’s been holding back a sneeze for the past half of the song.  When it sounds like the song is heading to its end, Harry manages to dance away from him.

Logistically, Harry knows that he shouldn’t go and have another pint. Fuck logic.  He tries to appear sober in front of the bartender and the bartender isn’t having it. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you get any more pissed,” he reasons.  “Where’s that tall you came with?”

Harry shrugs, and giggles just because.  “Nick was over there,” he waves his hand around in a vague gesture.  He looks to where he saw Nick just moments ago and he shouldn’t be surprised that Nick isn’t there anymore.  He’s probably gone to find Harry or a sneaky blowjob in the toilets.

The bartender sighs.  “You’re cut off anyhow.  Try not to hurt yourself before your friend comes back.”

The advice is wasted on Harry as he stumbles his way through the crowd.  In his drunken rationale, it’s perfectly sensible to go out the employees only back door for some fresh air rather than go through the regular entrance.  The chilly night air acts like a bitch-slap to Harry’s mind.  He feels a bit sobered up, although he is still a long way from being clear-minded.

“Oi, a homo!” some random guy calls out.  From the looks of it, he has to be as drunk as Harry.  His jacket isn’t on right and the smell of liquor permeates the air between them as he walks closer to Harry.

“Who’re you calling gay?” Harry snaps back.  It’s true that Target—Nick’s choice of the night—is an unofficial gay bar but it isn’t that obvious.  Besides, Target is also known for cheap but good drinks and not half-bad taste in music.  Maybe it’s the borrowed skinny jeans that gave him away.  Or something.

“Fucking queer,” the other guy spits out.  “Where’s your boyfriend, hmm?  Shouldn’t he be out here defending your honour?”

Harry has to smirk at that.  He doubts that he’s still got loads of honour left after all the thing he has done ever since Niall came into his life.  “Go fuck yourself.”  Ah, the classic response.

“You don’t mean you wanna fuck me yourself, gay boy?’ the other man jeers.  “Pretty face you go there, you sure you aren’t a girl under all that get-up?”

The other man has gotten too close and the way he is grabbing at Harry makes him feel uncomfortable and the last two shots are threatening to make a reappearance.  “Get your hands off me, you filthy bastard.  There’s no way I’m letting you lay a single finger on me.”

“Oh, pretty boy likes it rough, eh?” he keeps on advancing, and Harry hates that he’s been backed up to the wall.  How cinematic.

“Let me go, pervert!” Harry yells, hoping to garner some attention from a passer-by.  No such luck.

He hates violence but sometimes violence is the only answer.  When the man tries to move his hand to his neck to either pull him in or whatever, Harry side-steps the attempt and uses the man’s own momentum to hurl him towards the wall.  The man’s forehead hits the concrete wall with a sickening crack and he flops to the ground.  A trickle of blood runs down the side of his head and quickly forms a small pool on the pavement.

“No. . . no,” Harry mumbles, backing away from the scene.  The man doesn’t look pale but it could just be the streetlights.  The pool of blood doesn’t grow to be too big but its sight is still enough to make Harry sick.  He actually does throw up close to the man’s feet.  He’s got to be alive, he has to be.  He takes out his mobile and dials 999.

“What’s your emergency?” the operator asks.

“There’s . . . there’s an unconscious person.  Back door of Target nightclub.  He’s bleeding,” he manages to choke out.

“Okay, sir, we are going to dispatch an ambulance straight away.  Please stay by the person’s side until help arrives.  Did you witness what happened?”

“No,” Harry lies.  “I got out to get some fresh air and found him like this.”

“Thank you. Please wait patiently.”  The operator hangs up and Harry is left with silence.

He can’t do this.  He spares one last glance at the unmoving body lying on the cold hard ground and starts to sprint.  His flat is quite far away so he reckons he’ll walk more the half of it.  He left his Oyster card at Nick’s and he’ll be needing that back tomorrow too.

 

By the time he gets back, Harry feels as though he is soaked to the bone with sweat and that unconscious man’s blood. He’s also cold as fuck and he needs a hot shower right now.

“You’re back already? Though you’d stay at Nick’s or somethi—” Niall cuts himself off when he sees Harry.  “What happened?  Did someone attack you?”

Harry can’t answer Niall.  His breaths are coming out too fast and his chest feels constricted.  This feels vaguely familiar but he can’t put his finger on it.

“Harry,” Niall instructs calmly.  “Take in a deep breath and hold it. . . . Good now exhale slowly.  Keep doing it ‘til you feel like you’ve calmed down, alright?”

It feels like forever and a day passes become Harry regains his composure.  Through it all, Niall holds him the way a mother would hold a child, which is ironic as fuck because Niall isn’t supposed to be like this.  He is supposed to be a bloodthirsty villain with a single goal in his mind.  This sort of trait shouldn’t be implemented in Niall.

“You’re sorta cute when you’re talkin’ out loud,” Niall muses and Harry casts his eyes to the floor.

“Thanks I guess? For helping me out.”

“Dunoo why I did that, if I’m bein’ honest.  Maybe you poisoned me without either of us knowing.  Or maybe I’m not cut out for his world.”

Harry laughs weakly.  “Does it matter?  It’s normal to have a panic attack after killing someone, I reckon.  He could be alive, I left before the ambulance arrived ‘cause I’m a coward.”

He doesn’t miss the way Niall’s gleeful expression before he puts it away. “If he attacked you first, isn’t that self-defense?”

“Theoretically.  A drunk homophobe tries to rape a guy who is seen outside an unofficial gay club, shocking. With luck, he’ll remember nothing of tonight.  I just wanna sleep; can we go to bed?”

Niall smirks.  “You said ‘we’,” he remarks.  “Not, ‘I’m going to bed’.  We’re making some progress, I see.”

“I’m mentally and physically tired,” Harry protests.  He doesn’t think twice about taking off all his clothes, including his boxers.  Niall’s seen him naked so there’s no harm done.

“Alright, alright.”  Niall has to be indulging him now.  “Sweet dreams, darlin’.” He kisses Harry’s cheek.  “Remember that shadows can’t exist without light and that there isn’t a place in this world where darkness cannot be found.  A human heart is an easy thing to change, don’t you think?”  With that, Niall leaves for Harry’s bedroom.

 Normally, Harry distances himself from Niall’s sleeping form but for tonight, he snuggles up to Niall much like he did to Nick the night before.

Right before sleep takes over, he wonders when Niall’s smell became so familiar to him.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Harry’s alarm is a loud ringtone that is blaring at him from his jeans that are still in the space between his bedroom and the entrance.

“Harry Edward Styles,” Nick yells in the most parental voice Harry has ever heard him use, “where did you disappear to last night?! Do you know how worried I was especially after the ambulance came to take away an unconscious dude outside the back door?  That even made the local news on the nine o’clock news!  Please tell me you got home safe and not to a dingy old flat at the shady part of town.  Do we need to have the bar pick-up talk again?”

“Nick calm down,” Harry yawns.  “I’m at mine and no one died right?”  There’s that pit in his stomach again.

“No, just some indirect temporal concussion.  He should be fine except for maybe some vision problems but that’s common with the concussion he’s suffered. Now give me more details!  What happened last night?”

“I’m not entirely sure.  Got drunk and successfully came home myself, I suppose.” Harry isn’t sure why he just lied.  It’s Nick for one, his one best mate whom he hasn’t known all his life and definitely wasn’t there when he was seven and made his apple juice box explode all over his trouser front.

“Weirdo,” Nick says fondly.  “I gotta go meet up with my study group so I’ll check in with you again later, ‘kay?  And hold off shagging Niall’s brain out.  You become similar to the people you surround yourself with and I definitely do not want my best mate to turn into a psychopath.”

“Of course,” Harry says a beat too early.  “Go enjoy yourself, you big chav.”

“Bye.”

“Goodie you’re awake,” Niall says as he walks into his room.  “You were a right mess last night.  And don’t worry, I watched the news this morning and no one died.   You aren’t a murderer yet.”

And just like that, Harry’s stormy mood makes a comeback.  “It’s not a joking matter, Niall.  Murder is a criminal offense and massively wrong.  Taking someone’s life isn’t worth the consequences.”

“Do you think that I care?” is Niall’s icy answer.  “I think it’s a fantastic experience.  Right before they die, they get his look in their eyes.  It’s like they are considering every single thing they’ve done wrong in their lives that could have led them to their death.  The absolute terror.  I wonder what kind of face you’ll make when you’re face to face with death.”

The smile on Niall is calculated and practiced. It’s the kind of expression that has Harry shivering and fearing for his life.  At the same time, Harry knows that he can just call Niall out on his bluff.  “Like you’d kill me right now.  You like tormenting me too much for that.”

Niall tilts his head sideway.  “True.  Anyway, what do you want for lunch?  Or is it brunch since you missed brekkie?”

“Whatever.  I don’t think I’ve gone grocery shopping recently.”

“There’s two slices of bread left and maybe a cup of cereals.  And eggs.  Christ, you don’t even have tea, are you sure you’re English?” Niall jokes.

“Too early for that jibe,” Harry grumbles.  “Do what you want, I need to take a shower first.”

Niall grins innocently.  “Mind if I join?  Let’s be green.”

“Nice try.” Harry is used to this.  Two weeks ago, that kind of comment alone would have been enough to crank up Harry’s heart rate.

His life isn’t what he expected on that first day at uni but he supposes it could have turned out way worse.

 

 


End file.
